


what is (what should never be)

by killerqueenwrites



Series: family business – supernatural au [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Peter Parker, Found Family, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Monster of the Week, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 18:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21414364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/pseuds/killerqueenwrites
Summary: “Can’t you see him?” Tony whips his head back to stare at his friend, but when he turns back around, Peter’s gone.“No, I can’t see – who?”“Peter!”“Tony,” Rhodey says slowly, “who the hell is Peter?”
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: family business – supernatural au [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484696
Comments: 55
Kudos: 339





	what is (what should never be)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blondsak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/gifts).

> hello again!! it's been a hot minute, my bad, but doing both both whumptober and halloween challenges for october plus uni fully killed me off.
> 
> this is for blondsak because they love this au and also because i'm an IDIOT and posted the last part on their birthday and didn't even REALISE
> 
> anyway, usual warnings for monsters, spooky stuff, mentions of death and use of weapons, improvised or otherwise. enjoy!

_Washington DC, 2005_

James leaves the bar about three hours later than he wanted; no way he’s making his meeting in the morning, but he really couldn’t care less about that. They don’t care about him, or any of their pilots. Whatever excuses they try to make, however honourable they try to make his discharge, Carol is still gone and Maria is still left raising their daughter alone.

He knows the way back to his apartment by heart, even at night, even roaring drunk, but everything looks different in the dark: trees look more twisted, alleys seem like black holes, his own footsteps are too sharp, too loud. Maybe it’s all the alcohol he’s had in the last few hours, but he keeps checking over his shoulder, his heart beating a little too fast.

His building appears and James sighs in relief, quickening his pace a little, only to stop short when a girl appears in front of him.

“Jesus–“ James clutches his chest. Where the _fuck _did she come from? “Uh, you okay? Can I help you?”

“I think you can,” she purrs – fucking _purrs _– and starts towards him, her eyes going black, and James doesn’t even have time to blink but he knows he’s going to die–

There’s a sudden rush of movement, something leaping between her and James. James gasps and the girl shrieks as she falls.

She hits the ground, convulsing, and there’s something sticking out of her chest, grotesque, _wrong_. The second figure turns and it’s James’s idiot neighbour, because of course it is.

“You’re welcome,” Stark says lazily. The girl stops twitching.

“What the fuck–?”

“Shh, dude!”

“What did you do–?”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Stark takes a step towards him, and James notices what’s in his hand: a short, pointed piece of wood that looks like he’s sawn it off a fence post, coated in something wet and dark.

“Whoa, whoa – don’t you dare come near me with that thing.” He’s pissed and stumbling but also Air Force – ex-Air Force – and he will _happily _take this guy down.

“No, you’re good, I’ve seen you in daylight.”

“…what?” James watches him in disbelief. “How drunk are you? Have you taken something?”

“No,” Stark says shortly. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what? You stabbed her! She’s fucking–!”

“She was already dead.”

“Are you okay!?”

“You saw her eyes, right?”

Black, spreading out from the pupils like an oil spill, like smoke rising from a crash. “…maybe. That could’ve – I don’t know.”

“No, please,” Stark says with a shit-eating grin, “continue trying to explain what you just saw.”

“You know, I’m trying, but I got nothing for why you’d stab a woman!”

“And a man,” Stark adds helpfully. “He followed you out of the bar. I got him about a block ago.”

“What?”

“Well, you’re drunk, obviously depressed – easy target. Plus they’ll get, like, secondhand drunk from drinking your blood. I mean, Jesus, you smell like you drank the whole liquor shelf.”

_Obviously depressed? _“Drink…blood?”

“Vampires, man! Come on, what isn’t sinking in here?”

James has seen and heard a lot of crazy shit, a lot of which he’ll never be able to legally talk about, but that takes the fucking cake. “Nah. Not funny, man. I’m not that drunk, okay? Is this a prank?”

“No,” Stark says, and drops the smirk. He looks more sincere than James can ever remember seeing him. “I’m not fucking with you, I promise. Look.” He takes a step back, crouches, sticks his finger in the dead girl’s mouth. “See?”

James stares, trying to swallow down the bile that rises to his throat. Instead of canines, her teeth are sharp, pointed – fangs. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Stark grimaces apologetically and plants his foot on her chest, yanking the thing out – a stake, James’s mind supplies. The second he does, her body crumbles to dust.

“Oh…” James sways a little. He’s feeling…odd, and he doesn’t think it’s the alcohol. “Okay.”

Stark looks at him with a frown. “Hey, you good? You don’t look–“

“Fine.”

“No, you’re not. It’s okay.” Stark grasps both his stakes in one hand, reaching out to James with the other. “I know it’s a lot, man. It’s fine to freak out.”

James blows out a long breath. “Not gonna. Just need…a minute. And another drink.”

Stark nods. “Wanna come up to mine? You, uh, probably shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“Yeah, not when I’m questioning my whole existence.”

And then there’s a hand in his, shaking it with great enthusiasm. “Tony Stark. Nice to meet you properly.”

“Rhodes. James Rhodes.”

“Very double-oh-seven of you,” Tony drawls. He starts towards their building, tucking the bloody stakes inside his jacket. “Come on, Rhodey!”

“It’s – it’s Rhodes. Captain, if you cared.”

“Sure thing, Rhodey!”

This is going to be a long night.

* * *

Tony closes his eyes in contentment, sighing as a warm breeze dances across his face. Everything is perfect here, like it always has been, like it always will be.

“You look happy,” Rhodey says, and Tony grins.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He sits up and nods towards the lake, where his wife is playing with his daughter. Their laughter trickles up to the house, and Pepper looks up, her hair glinting in the sunlight, and waves.

Rhodey nods and takes a sip of his beer.

In the next second, Tony leaps out of his seat and stumbles forward, his eyes flying wide in horror and a hand outstretched as if he can touch the flickering image of the boy in front of him. Even as he does, he knows that the kid is out of his reach, that he’s somewhere else entirely.

“Tony!” Rhodey shouts. “Tony, what?”

“Can’t you see him?” Tony whips his head back to stare at his friend, but when he turns back around, Peter’s gone.

“No, I can’t see – who?”

“Peter!”

“Tony,” Rhodey says slowly, “who the hell is Peter?”

* * *

_two days earlier_

“Tony.”

“Hm?”

“Tony!”

“Yes?”

“I’m worried about the kid.”

Tony’s head snaps around.

“Oh, _that _got your attention.”

“Sorry, man, I…” Tony sighs. “What were you saying? Before?”

“Doesn’t matter. Look, about Peter…” Rhodey taps the top of his mug with a thoughtful expression. “I’m not sure how well he’s dealing with his aunt.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sure, he’s cried a few times, but other than that? I mean, he lost the last member of his family – he saw her die, in the most horrific way – and all he’s done is throw himself into cases and training and researching and his homeschooling.”

“And?”

“_And_ contrary to Stark belief, those aren’t actually good coping mechanisms. I think all he’s doing is distracting himself from his grief, rather than facing it.”

“…oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

The door opens and Peter bounces in, clearly just back from a run; his hair is sweaty and plastered to his forehead, and he doesn’t even take his earphones out as he waves cheerfully at them and heads upstairs.

“You see?”

“I’ll talk to him,” Tony promises. “Uh, what do you want to do for dinner?”

* * *

They’re camped out on the sofa after eating, as has become the norm, each scrolling through different news sites and forums in case anything looks interesting enough to warrant investigating. Peter has his feet kicked up into Tony’s lap like the teenager he is, nose buried in his phone.

Rhodey’s cell phone chimes and he checks it lazily. Tony doesn’t take much notice until his friend sits bolt upright, clutching his phone as if his life depends on it.

“What?”

Peter looks up with a confused frown.

“Rhodey, what?”

Rhodey shoves the screen in Tony’s face, his hands shaking.

** _Message from: Maria Rambeau_ **

_Carol’s back._

“What?” Tony breathes. “No, that can’t…”

“I have to go see them, I have to–“

“Rhodey,” Tony says firmly. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t what it looks like, man. It can’t be.”

“No, Maria knows about this shit, Tones. She’ll have checked. She wouldn’t tell me unless she was sure.” Another text arrives. “Look.”

** _Message from: Maria Rambeau_ **

_And she has Goose._

“She has a goose?”

“No, she has _Goose_. Lawson’s cat.”

“Lawson?”

“She was the head scientist at the base. She…she was the other person in the plane when it went down. Tones, I have to go.” He’s pleading now, close to breaking in a way that Tony’s never seen before.

“Okay. Okay, take the Audi. It’s faster. Don’t forget to stop for breaks – it’s a long way to Louisiana.”

“Thank you.” Rhodey jumps to his feet, already heading for the stairs. “Thank you.”

Peter gives Tony a questioning look.

“Tell you in a minute.”

Rhodey rushes back downstairs, a bag already packed. “Don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“Take as long as you need,” Tony tells him. “Text me when you get there, okay?”

Rhodey nods, clearly distracted. “And you. If you go out on a case, let me know.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony says, even though he has no intention of doing that. “Go on, get a good start before it gets late. Does Maria know you’re on the way?”

“Yeah.”

“All right. See you soon.”

“Bye!” Peter calls.

* * *

“So?” Peter says for the tenth time in as many minutes.

“So?” Mr Stark parrots.

“Where’s Rhodey gone.”

“Louisiana.”

“Well, _duh_. Why?”

“Because his best friend, who everyone thought was dead, just showed up there with a cat.”

“Whoa,” Peter breathes. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t…actually know.” Mr Stark frowns down at his laptop. “He’s never really said. I think he legally can’t.”

“_Please_. We must have hundreds of fake IDs between us.”

“Then maybe he just doesn’t want to.” Mr Stark nods to Peter’s phone. “C’mon, what you got?”

So that conversation is clearly over. “Okay, I got…possible vampire attack in South Dakota.”

“Last I heard, Barton and Romanoff were down there. Send them the info.”

“Right. Um…string of unexplained murders in California?”

“Lang and van Dyne.”

“‘Kay.” Peter quickly sends the emails. “What about you? Anything closer to home?”

“Mm…” Mr Stark squints at his laptop screen. “Seven unsolved disappearances in the last week in a small town about an hour west of here?”

“That sounds like something.”

“Go pack, quickly. We have the slow car, so we'd better leave right away.”

“Should we…?”

“Yes?”

“Tell Rhodey?”

“No. No, he’s got enough to worry about.”

“But he said–“

“I don’t wanna worry him, kid, okay?”

Peter nods.

“It’s very likely to be a simple case. We'll be there and back before you know it. Come on. Grab your bag, remember your knives. You can sleep in the car.”

* * *

“Just a twin room, sir?” the tired-looking concierge asks. To be fair, it is past one in the morning.

“Yeah, my kid’s out in the car.” Tony marvels at how it rolls off his tongue, even now, in a perfectly casual conversation. “Probably snoring his head off.”

“Past his bedtime?” the concierge smiles.

Tony laughs. “He’s fifteen, so obviously we have different opinions about that.”

“Mm, I can imagine. Do you need help with your bags, sir?”

“No, thank you.” The last thing they need is some poor hotel porter discovering one of their many weapon stashes.

“All right. Here’s your key. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you.” Tony walks back to where he’d parked the car and grins at the sight of Peter conked out in the passenger seat. He almost doesn’t want to wake him, but the last time he carried the kid, he’d been fuelled by sheer panic and adrenaline. Fifteen-year-olds are no joke. “Okay, kiddo. Time to sleep in a proper bed. Come on.”

Peter scowls, one hand coming up to knuckle at his left eye. He looks so much younger all of a sudden, and Tony spares a second to wish he’d never had to involve the kid in this life. “We here?”

“Yeah.” Tony pulls both of their bags out of the backseat.

“‘Re you Dad now?”

_Dad_. Tony ignores the funny little swoop in his stomach. “Yep. Mr Tony Parker, at your service.”

“Comin’.” Peter pulls his hood up and shuffles towards the hotel. Teenagers.

It’s quiet until they get to the room and Peter heads straight for the closest bed.

“Nope,” Tony says, catching his sleeve. “Nuh-uh. Clean yourself up first. Teeth. Face. The works.”

Peter grumbles something incoherent but probably annoyed, but does as he’s told.

_Holy shit. I think I just parented._

Tony changes while the kid’s in the bathroom, and then they swap. By the time he’s done, Peter’s already in bed and passed out.

“Night, kiddo,” Tony whispers. He doesn’t expect a response, so he almost doesn’t catch the mumble as he’s climbing into bed.

“G’night, Dad.”

_Dad._

No, Peter’s just tired. He’s mixing up their cover story with real life. He probably won’t even remember this in the morning.

* * *

Peter wakes up to the smell of bacon and coffee, and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment as memories of May assault him.

“You up, kid?” Mr Stark calls.

“Coming.”

“I got room service.”

“You got room service?” Peter opens his eyes. “How nice _is _this hotel?”

“Nice enough.” Mr Stark is sitting by a little table in the corner, sipping on coffee. “Come on, it’s getting cold.”

“How much do you want?” Peter asks as he takes a seat; there doesn’t seem to be enough food for both of them.

“Oh, no, kid, I’m good with just coffee.”

“Mr Stark! That’s not breakfast!”

“You sound just like Rhodey, you know that?”

“Good! At least one of you is a functioning adult.”

Mr Stark snorts before putting his cup down and clearing his throat. Peter’s well-versed enough in awkward adults to know this means an excruciating chat. “Kid, you doing okay?”

“…yes?”

“That’s not a question you answer with a question.”

“Just…questioning the question.”

“Aha! Deflection. My favourite thing to do. Not getting past me, Parker.” Mr Stark pins him with a look. “Like I said, I lost my mom not too long ago. I just wanna make sure you’re handling it. Kinda in the job description, right? Parenting?”

“Oh! No, yeah, I’m good. You and Rhodey are helping, and so is this…job. Thing. Whatever we do.” Isn’t it funny how he and Mr Stark will hug each other to death, especially after the whole shtriga-coma incident, and they can’t even have a semi-serious conversation? And by funny, he means verging on mortifying.

“Yeah?”

Peter sips orange juice just for something to do. “Yep.”

“Good! That’s, um, good.” Mr Stark clears his throat and stands up. “Bathroom.”

The instant the door shuts behind him, Peter muffles a scream in his hands.

* * *

“So I’ve been doing some research–“

“What _time _did you wake up?” Peter demands. He’s still picking at his breakfast, looking shell-shocked. Tony makes a mental note to look up whether teenagers suffer from having an irregular sleep schedule and whether or not they should have coffee.

He offers his cup regardless. “Want some?”

Peter makes a face, but then seems to think better of it and takes the mug.

“We’re not making a habit of this–“

“Too late.”

“Okay.” He waits until Peter finishes sticking his tongue out in disgust. “Right, as I was saying–“

“Not even milk?”

“No. Focus.”

“Sorry.”

“Okay, so seven people missing. Law enforcement aren’t doing much because the victims are, in their words, _known troublemakers_.”

“They don’t care?” Peter says, aghast.

“Afraid not, kid.” Tony, not for the first time, laments the sudden and abrupt loss of what remains of the kid’s innocence. “Point is, we’re on our own with this one. Anyway, they all seemed to hang around this cluster of warehouses just south of town before they disappeared. We’ll head there first, scope it out.”

“Sure.” Peter starts towards the bathroom, but pauses with a grin. “You ever gonna tell me how you can afford hotels like this?”

“Dear old Dad left me more than enough. Go on, hurry up. Lives to save.”

“But what if…?”

“What if they’re already gone?” Peter nods, and Tony sighs. “Then we take whatever it is the hell out and stop it hurting anyone else.”

The kid nods again, steels himself. Tony’s stomach warms with pride.

“Good boy. Let’s go.”

* * *

The warehouses are, for want of a better word, _creepy_. Peter stares at the first, one hand already gripping his knife.

“Bad vibes. Major creepy vibes.”

“For a wonderful moment, I forgot you were a teenager.”

Peter sticks his tongue out.

“Oh, great. Very mature.”

“This place is seriously…”

“Creepy?”

“Now you get it!”

Mr Stark rolls his eyes. “Come on. Quicker we start, quicker we finish.”

Peter swallows and follows him inside, stepping over a pile of old wooden planks on the way in. The air is thick with dust, cobwebs hanging off every possible surface. The floorboards creak beneath their feet and eerie light streams through the cracked windows.

Yep. Definitely haunted.

“If there is a monster here, it’s certainly living out a cliché,” Mr Stark mutters.

“Just a little bit.”

There’s a moan in the next room. They both freeze, before Mr Stark rushes forward. “Stay there.”

Peter turns and pulls his other knife, watching for anything that might sneak up behind them.

“Oh, God,” Mr Stark breathes, and Peter dares to edge backwards. “Okay, can you hear me? Hey, you okay?”

Peter turns around, but he’s completely alone. “Mr Stark?” Wasn’t he just here? Where did he go?

“Yeah, gimme a hand here. I don’t know if I can lift them.”

“Where are you? Lift who? There’s no one–“

_“Sleep.”_

The last thing Peter sees is a pair of glowing blue eyes, and everything goes black.

* * *

“Daddy!”

Tony huffs out a laugh as a bundle of excited five-year-old lands in his lap. “Hey, Maguna! How are you?”

“Dad, I want a puppy!”

“Of course you do.” Tony pushes away the nagging feeling that the word _‘Dad’ _sounds wrong coming from her, like it belongs to someone else. “What did Mommy say?”

“She said to ask you.”

“Mm, that’s not how it works. She’s in charge.”

“So can _you_ ask her?”

Laughter behind them. Rhodey. “Think you’ve met your match there, Tones.”

“Oh, absolutely. Can’t wait to introduce her to Peter.”

It’s like the sun dims. The golden light fades. Rhodey’s smile dips for a second.

“Who’s Peter?”

Who _is _Peter? “No idea,” Tony says honestly, and the world restarts. He’s sitting on his porch in warm sunlight, holding his daughter and laughing with his best friend.

* * *

“Breakfast, Peter!”

“Coming!” Peter calls. He can smell bacon and coffee, which reminds him of…something. Something nice.

“You sure you’re alive in there, kiddo?”

“Uncle Ben!” Peter shoots out of bed and practically tumbles into the kitchen, falling into his arms. “I missed you so much!”

“Missed me?” Ben says with a warm smile. “Where’ve I been, Pete?”

“…I don’t know.”

May laughs it off and leaves her spot by the stove to kiss the top of his head. Somehow, the bacon doesn’t burn.

* * *

Tony closes his eyes in contentment, sighing as a warm breeze dances across his face. Everything is perfect here, like it always has been, like it always will be.

“You look happy,” Rhodey says, and Tony grins.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He sits up and nods towards the lake, where his wife is playing with his daughter. Their laughter trickles up to the house, and Pepper looks up, her hair glinting in the sunlight, and waves.

Rhodey nods and takes a sip of his beer.

In the next second, Tony leaps out of his seat and stumbles forward, his eyes flying wide in horror and a hand outstretched as if he can touch the flickering image of the boy in front of him. Even as he does, he knows that the kid is out of his reach, that he’s somewhere else entirely.

“Tony!” Rhodey shouts. “Tony, what?”

“Can’t you see him?” Tony whips his head back to stare at his friend, but when he turns back around, Peter’s gone.

“No, I can’t see – who?”

“Peter!”

“Tony,” Rhodey says slowly, “who the hell is Peter?”

Tony blinks. "What?"

"What?" Rhodey repeats, a relaxed grin fixed on his face like it'd been there the whole time. "You okay, man?"

“Tony?” Pepper trails her fingers down his arm. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Peter,” Tony says. “Where is he?”

“Who’s Peter?”

“My kid. He – where is he?”

Tony blinks and there he is. Peter, pale and drawn, slumped on the grass in front of the lake. His eyes are closed; he looks dead.

“Peter!” Tony leaps off the porch and sprints for him. That’s his kid, his _child_, and–

He stops. Childish laughter fills his ears. Happy is calling to offer him a beer.

“What are you doing?” Pepper shouts from her chair. Her lips are quirked up in amusement.

What is he doing? Why did he get up? There’s nothing here but grass.

“I, uh, thought I saw something.”

“I’m sure it was nothing.” Pepper takes his hand – wasn’t she just sitting down? – and uses her other one to shake out her strawberry-blonde hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, probably.”

* * *

“Your parents will be here soon,” May says over her coffee. Breakfast seems to be taking a while, but the food isn’t getting cold. The morning light streaming in through the windows stays the same.

“My parents?”

“Richard and Mary, silly-billy.”

Peter feels five years old again, with his aunt and uncle smiling down at him. He feels warm. He feels safe.

Except…he’s not. Something’s here. Something _bad_.

His vision flashes, goes dark for a split-second, decrepit ruins overlapping where there should be happy yellow walls. May and Ben’s faces are nothing but skulls and crumbling teeth and empty eye sockets.

Just as quickly as it appeared, the image is gone. Peter sucks in a breath.

“Everything okay, sweetie?”

Peter swallows, staring at May’s smiling face.

Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

* * *

“Hogan, when did you get here?”

Happy scoffs. “I’ve been here the whole time, Tony.”

“Really? Feels like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Getting old?” Happy says with a teasing grin. “Retirement suits you.”

“Retirement?” That…doesn’t sound right, but for the life of him, Tony can’t figure out why. Why wouldn’t he be able to retire? What was so important he couldn’t leave it behind to be with his family?

“Uh-oh, time for the old man’s nap,” Rhodey laughs. He’s beside Happy? When did he get there?

“Yeah.” Tony smiles, and forgets what he was worrying about. “Lunch first, though.”

“Of course. Don’t forget your mom’s dropping by later.”

“Mom?”

“Yeah, coming to spoil her only grandchild.”

“Hey! I have…” Tony trails off, distracted.

“You have what?” Happy says.

“Um…nothing.”

* * *

“You’re gone,” Peter whispers. “You – you’re _dead_, May.”

“I don’t have to be, baby!” she says. “You can stay here, with me and Ben and your parents.”

“I can’t. I can’t do that.”

“Why not, Peter?” Ben says. “We want you to stay. We want you here. We’re a family, aren’t we?”

“We are!” Peter cries. “Of course we are. But…”

“But what?”

“I – I have another family now, and they need me. I…” Peter looks around. “I was with Mr Stark. Where is he?”

“He’s not here.” May steps forward, reaching for his hands. “We are, though, baby. We’re your real family, your only family–“

“Stop.” Peter shakes his head. “May wouldn’t say that. She’d want me to be happy.”

“I’m May.”

“No.” Peter starts to back away, but they’re following, reaching for him, grabbing, pulling. “No, you’re not.”

“Peter, stay. Peter!”

“I’m sorry.” He fumbles for the apartment door. “I love you, and I miss you so much.” _So much_.

But he has to go, has to leave them behind. People could be in danger. Mr Stark could be in danger.

Hands. More and more hands, groping, grasping for his arms, his shirt, his hair, pulling, pulling, pulling–

_A long black hand sliding open his window, reaching for him as he struggles to pull away–_

“Stay here, Peter.”

“I can’t.”

“Peter!”

Peter opens his eyes.

* * *

It’s cold. That’s the first thing he notices. He’s cold all the time now, ever since the shtriga, but this is different, bone-deep. His arms hurt, a painful throbbing ache, and his wrists are stinging. He tries to move his hands, but it’s like they’re stuck together.

“Mmmm…” He was with Mr Stark. Is he here too? “Misser…Mr S’ark?”

No answer.

“Help!” It’s barely a croak; his throat is dry and his lips are glued together. “Someone, please – help!”

No one knows he’s here. They didn’t tell Rhodey, just left. If he’s going to get out of here, he has to do it himself.

As his eyes slowly come back into focus, he zeroes in on a figure opposite him: Mr Stark, hanging from his wrists, his face pale and drawn and his head hanging down on his chest.

“Mr Stark!” Peter rasps, tugging on whatever’s holding him in place. Something gives a little; he hasn’t been secured too tightly, like whoever did this didn’t expect him to try and escape. “Oh, come on, come _on_–“

The rope finally falls loose and he crumples to the ground. He’s dizzy, shaking; black spots are dancing in his vision. The building looks industrial – a warehouse. So they haven’t been moved. Even better, their belongings are in a pile in the corner. Phone – he needs a phone.

He begins to crawl, unsure his legs will hold him, trying not to make noise. He has a bad feeling that whoever caught them is still around.

“Come on,” Peter breathes again, fumbling through his bag. “Come on – yes!” He scrolls through his recent calls and jabs the person’s name.

_“Peter? Peter!”_

The voice fills him with relief, so sudden that he almost starts crying. “Rhodey,” Peter gasps.

_“Jesus, kid, where are you? I’m in town – followed your notes. Please tell me you’re still here.”_

Thankfulness floods Peter. “The – the old warehouse on the outskirts. South side. I don’t know what happened, but Mr Stark’s here and he won’t wake up, and…”

_“I’m heading to you right now, kid, okay? I’m not far, but you need to stay with it. The thing you were hunting might still be in there with you.”_

That stops Peter short, his breaths stuttering again. The monster – if the monster was what tied them up–?

_“Calm down, okay? I’m coming, kid, it’s gonna be fine.”_

“Please hurry.”

“Uh-oh.” This voice is new, smooth, unbearably sinister. “Someone’s out of bed.”

“Oh, crap,” Peter breathes.

_“What was that?”_

“Stay away from me!” Peter senses something reaching for his back and kicks out, clumsy, disoriented, before scrambling away on all fours. His phone skitters away.

“Just relax,” the voice coos. “Don’t you want that life back? Wasn’t it better?”

Peter dares to glance up: Mr Stark still isn’t moving; there’s a dark shape looming over him, almost invisible except for the glowing blue eyes.

He crawls backwards, flinches as cloudy fingers reach for him. His hand lands on something sharp, and he slowly tightens his grip on it.

“There, keep still,” the thing says. “I can give you everything you want, and it won’t hurt a bit.”

Peter lunges, thrusting his makeshift weapon forward – a broken-off plank. It buries itself in the creature’s torso with a deadened thud, and the thing snarls, screeches, writhes. He remembers MJ reading _Paradise Lost _in the library one lunchtime, underlining her favourite phrase – ‘darkness visible’. That’s all this thing is. Darkness.

“How did you wake up?” it rasps. “You shouldn’t have–“ And then it’s gone in a cloud of black dust.

“Oh, shit,” Peter says shakily. “_Shit_.”

It takes him a solid minute to clamber back to his feet with the way his legs are trembling, and even longer to undo the knots around Mr Stark’s wrists. He collapses forward, complete dead weight, and it’s all Peter can do to stop them both crashing to the floor.

“Mr Stark?” He shakes the man a little. “Mr Stark, wake up.”

He doesn’t move.

“Wake up, please wake up.” Peter reaches a hand out, still shaking, and presses against where his pulse should be. “Mr Stark? Mr Stark!”

* * *

“Mr Stark!” Peter cries, his voice raspy. He’s struggling to reach forward, his eyes wide and scared. “Mr Stark, _please_, wake up! Wake up – help me!”

Tony reaches for him, knowing it’s useless but unable to help himself.

“Help me – help–!” He disappears.

“How?” Tony calls to the empty space. “What do I do?”

There’s no answer.

* * *

Heavy footsteps sound behind him, but Peter can’t look away. Mr Stark isn’t moving, barely breathing – his heart might not even be beating. He’s just said goodbye to May and Ben, and now Mr Stark is…might be…

“Peter!” Rhodey. That’s Rhodey’s voice, Rhodey’s hand on his shoulder. “Kid, you just went quiet! Where’s the monster?”

“Planked it,” Peter croaks. “Stabbed it. Rhodey, Mr Stark–“

“Oh, shit.” Rhodey leans forward, pressing his ear to Mr Stark’s chest, then his mouth. “Oh, shit!”

Peter knows what that means. “No no no – Mr Stark, wake up, please, wake up–!”

“Peter, _move_!” Rhodey grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him backwards, pressing down on Mr Stark’s chest again and again and again.

Peter sobs.

“Dammit, Tony,” Rhodey hisses. “Damn you, you stupid – fucking – idiot!”

With a rattling breath, Mr Stark jerks and coughs, his back arching off the floor, before staring up at Rhodey with nothing short of wonder in his eyes. “…Pep?”

“Jesus,” Rhodey mutters. Mr Stark goes limp again, but at least he’s breathing this time. “Kid, can you walk?”

“I – maybe?”

“Lean on me,” Rhodey says shortly, hefting Mr Stark up and over his shoulder.

He’s mad. Really mad.

“I’m s-sorry.”

“Yeah, I bet. Both of you – fucking idiots. Didn’t text, didn’t call, didn’t leave a note – just as well you left that webpage open, or I’d have no idea where to even start looking. Rushed straight in, didn’t fucking talk to anyone in town who could’ve told me where you’d gone, not even a single cop. Both of you could be _dead _right now.”

“Rhodey?”

“Two days. Two fucking days of radio silence – I told you to let me know if you went on a case.”

“Rhodey–“

“And Christ, Tony does this sometimes, but he should know better than to bring you into danger like this without taking a single damn precaution.”

“Rhodey,” Peter mumbles, “I think ‘m gonna–“

His knees give out and the world goes black.

* * *

Tony wakes up slowly at first, and then all at once.

It’s bright, white light drilling into his eyeballs and exacerbating the pounding in his head. Something is beeping close by, and it’s shrill enough to make him wince.

“Tony?” He knows that voice. “Take it easy, man, you’re okay.”

“…Rhodes?”

“At least you recognised me this time,” Rhodey says drily.

“Huh?” Tony finally manages to peel both eyes open.

“What do you remember, Tones?”

Tony thinks. “Had a case. Me an’ – shit, Peter!” He shoots upright and the beeping noise goes wild.

“Hey, steady!” Rhodey catches him, easing him back down. “He’s right there, see?”

Tony glances to the side to see Peter slumped in a hard plastic chair, looking pale and thin. “Is he okay?”

“Have you seen yourself?” Rhodey’s jaw clenches. “Do not _ever _pull shit like that again, do you understand me? I can’t believe you’d risk yourself like that, risk _Peter _like that. No sign of your seven missing people, so my best guess is they were long gone by the time I found you, maybe even before you walked in there.”

Tony swallows, feeling suddenly ill. “It’s dead, though?”

“Oh, yeah. Kid got it, right before I got there. And then…” Rhodey breaks off, folds his arms. “I had to resuscitate you. The kid was in fucking hysterics. If he hadn’t woken up and managed to call me…”

“Woken up?”

“It was a djinn. A bad one.”

“Like a genie?”

“Yeah, except the kind that traps you in a dream and feeds off you instead of granting you wishes. At least it looked like a good dream rather than a nightmare.”

“Hm?”

Rhodey sighs. There’s something like pity in his eyes. “You woke up asking for Pepper.”

_Shit_. “Yeah? So? I was…at dinner, asking for someone to pass it.”

“Uh-huh. And you often refer to your seasoning as ‘Pep’, yeah?”

_Double shit_. “I…”

Peter stirs beside him, and all of Tony’s attention instantly shifts.

“Mr Stark?” It’s barely a whisper.

Tony manages a smile. “Hey, buddy.”

Peter’s next breath catches on a sob.

“Pete…”

“You were dead.”

“I’m good, I’m fine, look.” Tony reaches out, wincing as an IV pulls at the skin on the back of his hand. Peter jerks back so quickly he almost knocks over his chair.

“Whoa–“ Rhodey steadies him. “He’s fine, kid, just a dumbass as usual.”

Tony sits back, letting Peter extend his arm this time until he touches Tony’s shoulder. He sighs, visibly relaxing.

“It’s me,” Tony assures him, because he might have had a good dream but the kid looks traumatised, “just me.”

“I’m gonna go find a doctor to tell you’re awake, and then they can yell at you.” Rhodey heads for the door. Could he really be any less subtle about giving them a moment? “You’re Tony and Peter Parker again, by the way.”

The moment the door closes, Peter’s climbing up onto the bed and squeezing himself in beside Tony.

“Okay,” Tony murmurs, powerless to stop him even if he wanted to, “okay, you’re okay.”

Peter lays his head on Tony’s shoulder. “I saw my aunt and uncle.”

“Oh.” _Brilliant response, Stark. Absolutely killing it_.

“I think it was supposed to be happy, but something about it just felt so wrong – I wanted you.” Peter’s voice drops to a whisper. “I had Aunt May and Uncle Ben – they _raised _me – and I was still looking for you.”

“That probably saved us both.” Tony might be exhausted, but he isn’t past noticing how tired Peter seems, how there’s bruises to match where Tony’s IVs are sitting, how he shivers every so often. “Don’t feel bad – it wasn’t really them.” He pauses. “I knew something was up, too. I saw a house – a house by a lake, with me and my college girlfriend, and we had a kid. Rhodey was there, and a couple of other friends, but something was missing. And every time I realised that…I don’t know, it was like I forgot it.”

God, they came _so close_. What if Peter hadn’t broken out of his dream? What if Rhodey had stayed an extra day in Louisiana?

Peter shudders suddenly, nestling closer into Tony.

“You good, kid?”

“Hm? Yeah, I just…still get kinda cold sometimes.”

“Mm.” Tony doesn’t like the sound of that, but he tugs Peter closer and doesn’t say anything else.

“Who’s Pepper?”

“What?”

“When you…after Rhodey…you said ‘Pep’. Who’s that?”

“She was my college girlfriend,” Tony says slowly, “and we were on and off for quite a few years after.”

“What happened?”

“She…we both came from hunting families. She wanted to stop. I didn’t think you could ever escape this life. We…took a break, and never really got back together.”

“But she’s alive?”

“Oh, absolutely, and probably kicking ass whatever she’s doing.”

Peter smiles. “She sounds cool.”

“Yeah, you’d love her. She’d scare the shit out of you, but you’d love her.”

The door opens and Tony smiles sheepishly at the doctor as she sends a pointed glare at Peter. “Sorry, my kid was very worried about me.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes behind the doctor’s back, and just like that, everything’s back to normal.

* * *

“No cases for at least a week, preferably two,” Rhodey says, helping Mr Stark sit on the couch in their house.

“Rhodes–“

“_Dead_, Tony. This close. What isn’t clicking?”

“I’m _fine_.”

Rhodey sighs and looks at Peter over the top of Mr Stark’s head, a clear cry for help.

“Mr Stark,” Peter whispers, sitting on the couch beside him, “please take care of yourself. I don’t – I only have you and Rhodey now. I can’t lose anyone else.”

‘_Damn_,’ Rhodey mouths, his expression one of pure awe as Mr Stark sighs and leans back against the cushions.

“Not going anywhere in a hurry, kid, okay? And I mean anywhere.”

“Thank you,” Peter mumbles, and yeah, maybe he’s being manipulative as _fuck_, but there’s a grain of truth in what he’s saying. A large grain. Huge, in fact.

“Christ, you’re cold,” Mr Stark says.

“I’ll boil the kettle,” Rhodey says.

“Coffee?”

“Hot chocolate or tea. They’re your choices.”

“Rhodes–“

“I restarted your heart!” Rhodey calls, already halfway to the kitchen.

“He’s not gonna let that go, is he?”

“Nope,” Peter says.

“Kid, I…” Mr Stark sighs. “He was right to be mad at me. You should be too, honestly. What I did was stupid and reckless, and it nearly got us both killed. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Peter says. “You were right; it looked like a simple case.”

“Still should’ve checked. Nothing’s ever that easy, not with this job. If you hadn’t…” Mr Stark frowns at the cup Rhodey hands him. “What the fuck is this?”

“Tea.”

“Thanks, I hate it.”

“There’s still caffeine in it,” Peter says slyly, clutching his hot cocoa with both hands.

“Oh, well, in that case…”

Rhodey stares at Peter. “Where were you for the rest of this idiot’s life?”

“Queens.”

“Figures.”

“How did you wake up?” Mr Stark asks, after a experimental sip of tea.

“I …don’t know. Even the thing – the djinn – even that seemed confused by it. I just…_knew _something was wrong. It felt wrong, so I…walked out of the apartment, and _bam_. Back in the creepy warehouse.”

Rhodey and Mr Stark share a look.

“What?”

“Nothing, kid.”

Peter knows it’s something, knows there’s something they’re not telling him, but he can also tell there’s no point pushing. “Okay. Fine.”

Mr Stark heaves another sigh and leans back into the couch, pulling Peter down with him. “Nurse Rhodes, as the designated carer for us two invalids, I nominate you to go pick up takeout.”

Rhodey scowls good-naturedly. “And what do the patients want?”

“Chinese.”

“You heard the kid.”

“Whatever. And – oh, no! What a shame!” Rhodey picks up the car keys and dangles them from his fingers. “Looks like I’m gonna have to take the Audi because _someone _wasn’t cleared to drive and that shitty mom-mobile is still parked outside that warehouse, just _waiting _for us to collect it.”

“…I probably deserve that.”

“No _probably _about it. You want the usual?”

“Get some extra starters. Spring rolls, that kinda thing.” Mr Stark puts his empty mug down. “Hospital food sucks.”

“Sure does,” Peter agrees.

“Hey, you weren’t confined to a bed for a week–“

“Your heart stopped!”

“And then it started again, so I don’t see–“

“Mr Stark–!”

“I’m leaving!” Rhodey announces. “Leaving right now. If you kill each other, I wasn’t here, you got that?”

“Loud and clear, honeybear.”

“Hey, Pete? If you wanna team up and murder him, I’ll be your alibi.”

Mr Stark yelps out a protest and Peter nearly falls off the sofa laughing.

Yeah, this is his family now.

**Author's Note:**

> whoo! tony and rhodey backstory! more Mysteries™ around peter! 
> 
> there will possibly be a second chapter to this, tentatively titled 'what rhodey did', so i need to decide whether i want to explain that in more detail or just do it in a later part. also, once again, if there are any episodes or monsters you'd specifically like to see, let me know. ('yellow fever' has already been requested! thanks, madasthesea and afroradish)
> 
> @angel-gidget made an awesome edit for this au - check it out here (and also read all other aus there, they're all awesome) https://akillerqueenwrites.tumblr.com/post/188433978471/angel-gidget-marvel-fanfic-recs-iron-dad
> 
> finally, i'm on tumblr @akillerqueenwrites, or my main blog @akillerqueenyouare. come say hi, ask questions, leave prompts or just yell at me. thank you for reading!


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